by Suzanne Cass
Lethargy sat on her shoulders like a great beast. How had things suddenly become so complicated? The alliance. Simon’s revelations. Her feelings towards Tam. There was so much roiling around in her head this morning she’d not even had the energy to go snorkelling with Alisha and Marg. It seemed today she was getting further and further away from winning the million dollars, not closer.
There were only seven team members left. The idea didn’t thrill her as much as it should. They’d voted Susan out last night at the conclave. Cilla had wanted to get rid of Rosa. No one else seemed to have noticed that she’d been coming a close second to Hayden yesterday in the spiderweb knockout. But once again, Simon had dictated the votes of all the old Dawnbreakers’ members.
Heaving a huge sigh, she shifted her weight onto her hands and leant back to survey the beach.
It was another perfect day in paradise. Small wavelets lapped the beach, crashing up the sand and running back down, leaving fizzing bubbles of foam behind. A white-bellied sea eagle was doing lazy circles at the back of the bay, where the water broke, choppy and blue over the reef. It was still cool, although the heat was building and soon she’d have to move further up into the shelter of the jungle; as much to get away from the emerging sand-flies as to get away from the fierce sun.
Funnily enough this beach was beginning to feel like home. Its familiar crescent curve sweeping away to the northern headland drew her gaze every time she came back to the coast. Even the debris and smashed trees littering the shore after the storm were now part of the landscape she was coming to admire.
Tam’s face appeared before her mind’s eye. He’d tried numerous times over the past twenty-four hours to get her alone, to talk to her. Of course he’d noticed there was something wrong, how on earth could he have missed her cold shoulder tactics. But she’d been lucky every time, and someone or something had diverted them. But she’d need to talk to him soon.
Distant yelling attracted her attention. It was coming from over on the southern rocky headland, where Alisha and Marg had gone fishing. A figure lumbered over the rocks towards the beach. It could only be Alisha from that gait. Why was she running?
Cilla stood up, shading her eyes. Yes, it was definitely Alisha and she was upset about something. Cilla started to run towards her.
‘Cilla, you got to help Tam. Quick, he’s over there with Marg,’ Alisha gasped and flapped an arm towards the rocky edge where they normally dove off into the water. Cilla could just make out someone kneeling down over a body.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Marg’s been stung by something,’ Alisha panted out the words between breaths. ‘Quick go and help Tam bring her back to camp. Where the hell are Simon and Rosa and Hayden?’
‘Don’t know,’ Cilla yelled back over her shoulder as she sprinted across the sand. What could be wrong with Marg? There were poisonous sea-snakes or fire coral in the water, just to name a few of the nasties she might encounter. Oh God, please let it not be a Stonefish. Cilla didn’t want to think about that. She ran as hard as she could.
Tam had picked Marg up and was carrying her across the rocky headland. Not an easy feat considering how sturdy and muscular Marg was and how jagged the rocks were.
Cilla could hear Marg screaming as she came closer. The hair on the back of her neck rose up at the sound.
‘Tam, let me help.’
‘Do you know how to do a fireman’s lift?’ Tam grunted through gritted teeth. His breath was nearly as laboured as Marg’s, she must be heavier than she looked. Cilla nodded and they transferred Marg’s weight between the two of them.
‘Do we know what stung her?’ Cilla had to raise her voice above the sound above of Marg’s muffled screams of pain.
‘I think it might be a Stonefish,’ he grunted back. ‘I couldn’t get much out of her after she surfaced. But there looks to be a spine or something in her foot and from the amount of pain she’s in, it’d be a good guess.’
‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’ This was bad. Marg needed medical help. Immediately.
Simon burst from the edge of the jungle and ran towards them. He shoved Cilla out of the way and took Marg’s weight. The two men were much quicker at carrying her.
‘I’ll go and get some water on the boil,’ said Cilla, racing off ahead of them. As she approached the campsite she saw Alisha talking to one of the camera crew, arms waving in desperation. He had his two-way out and was pushing buttons even as he listened to her.
Cilla sped over to the shelter and pulled out the big iron cook pot and half-filled it with water, then dragged it over to the fire. Rosa ambled back into the camp, unaware of the emergency.
Cilla yelled, ‘Rosa, quick, we need more firewood to build this fire up. We think Marg’s been stung by a stonefish.’ Rosa’s eyes widened with shock but she didn’t need to be told twice. She hurried back into the jungle. They’d all learned at survival training the treatment for stonefish sting was hot water. As hot as the patient could stand. It helped neutralise the toxin and took away some of the pain.
Cilla used what little firewood was still lying around the beach to build up the fire as much as she could and knelt down to blow on it.
Tam and Simon arrived with Marg slung between them. They put her down as gently as possible in the shelter, but she still screamed every time they moved or bumped her. Cilla ran over.
‘It’ll be okay, Marg. Alisha has got the medics on their way and I’ve got some hot water to take away some of the pain.’ Marg didn’t answer and Cilla wasn’t even sure she heard her. She’d curled into a ball and was cradling her foot. Her skin was pale and sweat streamed off her body, her face drawn back in a rictus of pain. She moaned constantly, tremors of agony racking her body. Cilla had never been so scared. Not even the night of the storm.
Stroking the other woman’s head she whispered words of encouragement, sending a frightened glance towards Tam. He looked up from where he was bent nearly double from the effort of hauling Marg back to camp. His honey eyes were wide with worry as well.
‘Tam, can you check the water in the pot, it might be hot enough now,’ Cilla commanded in clipped tones.
By the time two boats sped into the bay with JJ and the medic team on board fifteen minutes later they’d managed to get Marg up to a sitting position between Tam and Cilla with her injured foot in the hot water. She’d stopped moaning, but her head lolled back and her eyes remained closed.
More than happy to hand Marg over to the capable hands of the medics, Helen and James, Cilla stepped back to watch.
JJ hovered around the tight circle of medics, his handsome face showing signs of uncharacteristic worry.
Cilla’s hands shook. It was delayed shock, she knew that, but it did nothing to stop the trembles. Her knees felt weak and she had a sudden urge to sit down. Tears pricked at the back of her eyelids. Please let Marg be all right. The words went round in a desperate loop in her head.
Tam came up and stood next to her, the dejection just as evident in the strained lines around his eyes. He took one look at her and without speaking or asking, he enfolded her in his arms.
He stood rock-solid, his chest sturdy and warm. She hated him. She hated herself for needing him. But right at this moment his strong arms around her were the only thing holding her up. Accepting her moment of weakness she let him comfort her.
’She’ll be fine,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘Helen will fix her, just like she fixed you.’
If only he were right.
Drawing in the last shreds of security she could before the inevitable, she drew away.
‘I know,’ she mumbled in reply. The rest of the team stood around the shelter in an awkward semi-circle, unsure what to do or say, watching the nightmare scene unfold before them.
At last JJ stepped away from the huddle around Marg and came over to them.
‘Marg needs to go to hospital, straight away,’ he said without preamble. Cilla felt her chest tighten and had to suppress the urge to reach for Tam’
s hand. ‘But the medics think that after a shot of antivenin she’ll make a full recovery.’
Thank God. The tightness in her chest eased a little. Alisha and Rosa let out exclamations of relief.
‘That does mean she’ll be leaving the game though, and won’t be coming back. She’ll need a good couple of days in hospital to recover from this one.’ JJ paused to allow his words to sink in. ‘You guys did a great job. If you hadn’t acted so quickly who knows how badly off Marg might be now. You should all be congratulated.’ JJ’s praise felt somehow hollow; Marg would be leaving the game. Nothing could save her from that now.
There was a flurry of activity around the shelter and a stretcher was brought up from the boat.
Helen called out to them, ‘Hey guys, Marg wants to say goodbye.’
They all crowded around the sick woman. Cilla held her hand, which was cold and clammy. They all tried to talk at once, finally letting Alisha say what they were all feeling. Alisha patted Marg’s arm and spoke with tears in her eyes. Cilla would miss the Canadian woman’s whacky sense of humour, and her constant conversations about sexuality and how men frequently got it wrong. And the way she thought everything was awesome. Marg would’ve been a huge chance to win the million with her athletic ability, competitive streak and sheer likability.
Now they were six.
~
‘We need to talk.’ Tam stood over Cilla as she sat at the edge of the water. It was now or never. They’d all gotten over the shock of Marg’s departure this morning, and now it was time for him to confront Cilla. After their brief consoling hug this morning, she’d gone back to being distant and aloof.
‘I don’t want to talk.’
‘Come for a walk with me?’ he said, not quite able to keep the edge of entreaty out of his voice. She didn’t move. ‘Unless you’d rather do it in front of an audience.’ He tilted his head towards Rosa and Alisha, who were sitting at the cook fire readying rice for dinner. They were within earshot if they cared to listen.
With a heavy groan she stood up. They walked in silence side by side at the water’s edge, their feet making soft sucking sounds as they left wet footprints in the sand.
Tam glanced behind him. They were out of earshot now. He wanted to touch Cilla, to ask her how she was, take a look at her head to make sure for himself that her wound was healing fine.
He let out a loud sigh. Where to begin?
Before he could frame the words to ask the question that’d been bothering him for two days, Cilla said, ‘What do you want, Tam? The last thing I need at the moment are your problems. I’m not sure I can take much more today after Marg’s leaving this morning.’ Her face remained averted and her green eyes cold.
He almost lost his nerve. She was right. He shouldn’t be cornering her right now. Perhaps he’d made it all up, her sudden remoteness. She’d certainly accepted his comfort as Marg had lain sick and injured. When he’d held her in his arms he almost believed things were okay between them again.
Her reaction to him now told him otherwise. A huge wall had gone up between them and he didn’t know why. He shouldn’t care, but he did.
‘I need to know what you and Simon talked about the night of the prize.’ There’d be no dancing around the issue, he went straight for the jugular. This conversation would either make or break them as friends … or whatever it was they’d become to each other.
‘What? Why?’ Her surprise at his direct question was obvious.
‘Because ever since then you’ve looked at me as if I’m the devil incarnate, and to touch me seems to cause you physical pain.’ He was surprised at the depth of emotion in his voice. He’d thought to remain calm and impartial, at least to start with, but the truth of his statement couldn’t be denied. ‘What have I done to deserve that?’
Cilla stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Her hands were clenched at her sides and her face like a thunderous black cloud.
‘What have you done?’ The way her eyes flashed, dark and dangerous rang warning bells in his head. ‘You men, you’re all the same. You’re all just like my father.’ Rage and something else – was it regret – flashed in her eyes.
Where had that outburst come from? Why such an intense reaction? And what’d her father done to get her so riled up and anti-men?
‘I’m sorry, what—’
‘Don’t you dare act all innocent and wholesome, Tam Connor.’ Her words hit him like a dash of cold ice.
‘I know what you and Simon got up to when you thought I wasn’t looking. He told me every sordid detail. How you snuck up on me while I was swimming – how you saw me naked.’
Oh God, she knew. Just as he’d feared the incident had come back to hurt him. Big time.
‘I wanted to tell you, Cilla. I tried to tell you—’
She cut him off with a harsh laugh. ‘At least you aren’t denying it.’ Her laughter didn’t hide the fact that her face had drained of all colour. Her voice was raw, painful to listen to as she continued, ‘So then don’t try and deny the fact you enjoyed seeing me naked that day either. You’re just a pervert and a liar.’
He took a step backwards, staring at her in disbelief pierced. It was true, he had tried to tell her, but something always stopped him. Now he knew he should’ve tried harder. Much harder. Heat flamed in his cheeks. Shame and mortification cut through him with razor sharp clarity.
‘And then you had the audacity to seduce me on the beach. To let me have sex with you.’
That’s not exactly how he remembered it, but he’d take that one on the chin. He’d been about to tell her when she’d started stripping her clothes off. The sight of her beautiful body had driven all other thoughts away. Looking back, it was a stupid thing to do. He wasn’t an immature kid anymore. He should’ve been able to control his primal urges. If only he could tame this allure she cast, so that his senses weren’t turned upside-down and inside out every time she came near. Even now, when she was hissing like an angry cat ready to claw his eyes out, it only made her seem more spectacular to him.
Tam lifted his hands, palms up, beseeching. ‘Cilla, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for not telling you straight away. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. You see—’
‘You men are all just such … liars. You can’t be trusted. But don’t worry, I won’t be gullible enough to trust you ever again.’
She turned on her heel and headed back towards camp.
‘Cilla, wait. You need to give me a chance to explain.’
She turned back, a feral grimace on her face. ‘You’ve got nothing to tell me that Simon hasn’t already filled me in on. I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Just leave me alone.’
He watched her stomp away from him, rooted to the spot with astonishment. She wouldn’t listen to him. She’d come in guns blazing, fired accusations at him, not given him a chance to defend himself, leaving him battered and bleeding, then turned and walked away.
He sat on the sand, head down and fists clenched.
For someone who prided himself on his self-control and his empathy for the human condition he’d hurt her deeply. Racking his brain, he tried to remember if Cilla had ever mentioned her father. She hadn’t. And now it made a horrible kind of sense. Her father had wounded her emotionally, and whatever it was he’d done to Cilla, Tam had just proven himself equally unworthy.
Tam knew he deserved the label of liar, but pervert? That was a very strong indictment. A niggling voice at the back of his brain wondered exactly what Simon had said to her. Sub-consciously Tam knew following Simon’s wishes not to tell Cilla would backfire somehow. He’d just not imagined that it’d happen this spectacularly.
Tam raked a hand through his hair. He wanted to go after her, to force her to listen; to run up the beach and turn her around. Tell her how much he really cared, and how he never meant to cause her so much pain. But nothing he could say to her would be believed right now. She’d made that crystal clear.
He needed to go and confront Simon as well
, call him out for all the half-truths he’d said. He slammed a frustrated fist into the sand, wishing that it was Simon’s face.
It wouldn’t help his cause to do either of those things tonight, but God he wanted to. It took all his self-control to hold himself back, to stay seated here on the cold sand.
He stared out to the horizon, his eyes not even registering the setting sun, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘It’s time to vote,’ said JJ. His voice tolled in Cilla’s head like the ringing of a death knell. She watched Alisha get up and make her way over the bridge to the crow’s nest platform. Nothing felt real, as if she was in some slow-motion replay of an old black and white movie; as if her muscles had suddenly seized up and she was paralysed, unable to move or speak.
Paralysed by the choice in front of her.
Simon sat next to her, preening like a peacock, the exemption parrot sitting on his shoulder. She couldn’t vote for him.
A huge gust of wind shook the platform and Cilla shivered. There was another big tropical storm on the way.
‘Wow, Tam, your firebrand just got blown out.’ JJ pointed to the row of firebrands behind them. Cilla turned to look. Tam’s firebrand had indeed gone out.
‘I hope that isn’t an omen, JJ,’ Tam replied with a grin. Cilla could see he wasn’t really worried, he didn’t believe in portents. In general she didn’t either, but tonight the sight of the gutted firebrand shook her to the core.
She hadn’t spoken to Tam in two days, had barely even glanced in his direction since their fight on the beach.
He’d tried to talk to her, more than once, but she wouldn’t let him. She’d lived up to Marco’s nickname of the ice queen very well indeed over the past few days. All she had to do was put those walls up around her heart, reside safe and secure in her cocoon of self-righteousness, buoyed by her justifiable anger, and she knew she could stay that way indefinitely.
Were those walls high enough to protect her from what she was about to do?
